Having Slipped In and Out of Heaven
by Hahs
Summary: A series of one-shots and drabbles from our favourite Neverland story. During/before/after.
1. Wendy Darling's Decision

**AN: Hello, everybody! This is just a little note to thank you for looking at my fic. It's been something I've wanted to do for a long time. Peter Pan was the greatest story of my childhood and my love for it has never died. These one-shots/drabbles will vary between the classical version and the 2003 adaptation, both of which I love, as well as snippets from elsewhere. It will be clear within the chapters but if you have any questions, feel free to message me any questions. PLEASE leave reviews, they're very helpful and it's always nice to know what people think of your work! I won't say goodbye (because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting!;)) so I'll just say see you soon, and thank you again!  
~ Hahs xx**

"Forget them, Wendy. Forget them all. Come away with me and we'll never, never have to worry about grown up things again."

Wendy Darling looked slowly around the nursery, her mind burning with thoughts.

Could she really go? Leave London in the dead of night with her brothers and a boy? Surely, she thought, that would be terrible for her mother and father. They would worry – they would panic… They would not know where their children had gone, but simply that they had and they would not return.

"Never," she said, "is an awfully long time, Peter."

A breeze brushed against her ankles, cool and inviting like the snow on the window ledge. The outside world was an absurd, alien place: Wendy knew not of its hidden secrets. But she was sure, however – quite sure, in fact – that she knew someone who would know them all and more, someone who could teach her and show her a whole new world.

She turned to look at him. He was waiting behind her, so close that she could hear his breathing – slow, steady and calm, and as she looked up into his eyes she saw the something there. Slowly, Peter's lips formed a smile filled with things she didn't know, things that would otherwise intrigue her forevermore. He radiated adventure and as she couldn't help but return the gesture, she knew why he was smiling.

She could never have said 'no' to Neverland.


	2. The Greatest Adventure of All

"You won't forget me, will you?"

It was a selfish question but Wendy could not stop herself from asking. The words tumbled from her mouth without her knowing and she stood, nervous, waiting for the response that she knew he would give her.

Peter said, "Me? Forget? Never."

He smiled, but it did not touch his eyes. He did not shine with the light that she knew was within him: he was but a shadow of the boy she knew. Only once before had she seen him like this and the memory came to her in that moment; it was the image of his hurt face framed by moonlight in a faraway forest.

_'Wendy? It's only make-believe, isn't it? That you and I are…"_

_ 'Oh, yes…'_

To think that she had ever wasted her time with talk of _feelings_! They could have been laughing, flying; spending their precious moments together in joy! Instead they had been wasted, marred with sorrow… just like these were now.

They looked at each other for a long time. Wendy felt her eyes stinging with tears.

Peter began to leave. He raised his hand in a wave, the gesture half-lost as he turned away, and somehow he stayed afloat even though no happy thoughts could come to Wendy Darling.

"Will you come back?" she blurted hopefully.

When he turned to look at her, it was Her Peter that she saw, smiling like he knew something she didn't. "To hear stories," he said. "About me!"

A bubble of laughter slipped helplessly from Wendy's lips and Peter was suddenly flying away. He was nothing but a blur of laughter and light as he flew to the heavens to twinkle jovially with the stars – second to the right and straight on 'til morning.

Wendy Darling watched. She watched until he was but a speck of dust against the moon, and then she watched longer, not wanting to miss a moment of his departure. Peter was gone and though she hoped beyond hope that she would see him again, a part of her knew truly that this was goodbye forever. She could keep the nursery window open for as long as possible, willing the night to come when a mysterious boy would wake her as she slept, but the day would come when the nursery would no longer be her home. She would be relocated to some other part of the house in her own room and begin her instruction with Aunt Millicent… and by then it would be too late.

She would be a lady and Peter would still be Peter.

His shadow finally disappeared beyond the moon and Wendy found that she was still standing on the window ledge. With careful precision she stepped down and clasped her hands together as she said farewell to her own little piece of heaven. The tears in her eyes clung to her lashes like the dew drops in Neverland clung to the old spider's webs.

It was more than just saying goodbye to a friend. It felt like she was saying goodbye to a part of herself.

It was not until many years later that Wendy realised she had said goodbye to a part of herself that night: the part of her that now belonged to Peter. You see, Peter Pan had left her that night carrying something that he did not even feel upon his shoulders – he left with the last of Wendy's innocence. Neverland had been her first and her last childhood adventure.

_'This belongs to you and always will.'_

Such a simple, powerful thing was a thimble.

As Wendy looked back at her family she held the slightest smile, nothing more than a turn of her lips, perfectly conspicuous in the right-hand corner. A hidden kiss: hidden now because it was her secret. The boys would all forget with age that Wendy Darling had shared a thimble with Peter Pan, but she never would.

He, Peter Pan, was her greatest adventure.


	3. Peter's Last Visit

Wendy Darling looked up suddenly, stiffening, her eyes frozen on the bedroom window. Her hands stilled on her book, mid-way through turning a page, and the room seemed to hold its breath. What was that? She had certainly heard something – a low thud, like a weight being dropped.

The sky outside presented no outstanding view. It was a chilly December night: the sky was as black as the roads were snowy. From the flicking glow of her nightlight Wendy could see the naked branches of the oak tree in the garden, swaying ominously in a cold breeze. There was nothing out of the ordinary.

Funny, she thought. She could have sworn she had heard something…

With a sigh she returned to her novel, a small crease of a frown between her brows, absolutely oblivious to the boy looking in at the window.

The window was different. Had they changed it? It was shorter and not as wide – he would have had to crouch to enter the room. It was only partially open, too – they had always kept the window wide – and now he had to watch her through a sheet of glass.

And then there was the _room_, which was smaller by far and much less interesting, with little furniture and only one occupant. Where were the boys? He couldn't see either John or Michael and there was only one bed: neither of the brothers was in it. What had happened to them?

Wendy Darling was reading.

Wendy. It was Wendy, wasn't it? Yes, it was Wendy, but… different. Not-Wendy. She wasn't wearing the white nightgown anymore. Instead she was dressed in a pale pink gown with ruffles and a puffy skirt: when had Wendy become so womanly?! Her face was almost the same but it was thinner – older? – and it was not smiling. There were no sparkles in her downcast eyes. Instead, Peter was sure he saw sorrow residing there.

And when had Wendy ever worn her hair up?

Not-Wendy, thought Peter. Not my Wendy.

There was a gentle knock at the door.

"Come in," said Wendy.

Peter shifted in the shadows to make sure he wouldn't be seen but continued to watch, waiting for John or Michael to enter the room with a wild Indian cry.

It was Mrs. Darling and, unlike her daughter, she did not appear to have aged at all. Slowly she entered the room and perched herself on the bed opposite her daughter with steady movements, quite like the way Peter would walk when he was sneaking up on the Lost Boys to scare them. Well, Mrs. Darling was going about sneaking completely wrong – Wendy could see her! What a waste of caution, he thought.

"It is very late, sweet heart. Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

"I couldn't sleep," admitted Wendy.

Mrs. Darling glanced from Wendy's dress to the neat bedsheets. "Have you even tried?"

Wendy did not answer, which Peter thought was very strange because Wendy liked talking.

Pursing her sweet mouth, Mrs. Darling slowly leant forward, her voice a comforting sound like the hum of the forest at night. "Is it Richard?"

Wendy nodded.

"What is it, darling? Has something happened?"

Wendy seemed to struggle. Had she forgotten how to speak?

All of a sudden, with a terrible wail, she burst into tears. "I- I think I care for him, mother!"

"Wendy, sweet heart! What is there to be sad about? T'is a beautiful thing."

"But I d-don't think he cares for me in return!"

Mrs. Darling reached out to take her daughter's hand and Peter saw her mouth twitch. "Is that what's been bothering you?"

With a loud, noisy sniff, Wendy nodded, and Mrs. Darling pulled a small piece of cloth from her sleeve which she gave to her daughter. Wendy mopped away her tears.

"Then, my dear, you have nothing to worry about. Nothing at all!" she declared. "This very evening after the party, Richard came to your father and I and asked to speak with him in private. When your father returned, he told me that Richard had asked for his blessing and that he had given it."

When Wendy looked up her face was alight with hope and wonder. "You don't mean to say-?"

"Yes! Richard is planning to propose to you, this here Friday after the dinner!"

"Oh, mother!"

Mother and daughter leapt into a joyous embrace, loud with Wendy's excited squeals and Mrs. Darling's laughter, tears in her eyes. Peter frowned at them. He was confused. What was happening? Why had Wendy cried? Why were they so excited? And, if they were so excited, why was Mrs. Darling crying now? He recognized the words they were using but he did not understand them, for it had been so long since he had heard them.

"But, Wendy, you mustn't let on that you know."

"Of course!"

"Wendy, darling, you are so lucky. So young and soon to be betrothed… soon to be married!"

… Married?

There was the sparkle in Wendy's eye that he knew so well. She beamed brightly at her mother, young and delighted. "Married to Richard! Can you believe it? _I _am getting married to _Richard_! _Richard_ is going to be _my_ husband-!"

Husband.

Husband.

Husband.

Husband. Husband. Husband. Husband. Husband. Husband. Husband. Husband. Husband.

_'What is this, I see? There is another in your place… He is called – husband.'_

Peter slammed the window shut and took off before Wendy or Mrs. Darling even had time to turn around.

Peter had come back to hear a story. That was how it started before. He had come to listen to the story about the glass slipper… He wanted to hear the stories again: he wanted to hear her voice and see her face.

He had told her he would come back.

How long ago had that been? It felt like mere days to Peter but, alas, he had forgotten that time was different in Neverland. You were always having much too much fun to notice that time was passing.

And now he was too late.

Wendy – Not-Wendy. She was older. She had grown up, but wasn't she still a child? She did not look like Mrs. Darling did: she did not look like a woman, just the beginning of one.

Wendy had grown up and left her childhood behind.

Husband. Husband.

_'There is another in your place…'_

Peter flew through the sky like a bullet. His vision blurred and he rubbed roughly at his eyes with the back of his hand, hardly daring to think, hardly daring to breathe.

He had to stop. Landing on a rooftop far away from Bloomsbury, he knelt against the chimney and trembled. His body shook with chills but he felt so hot that it was like he was suffocating. Oh, he felt like a volcano!: ready to erupt, to burst open and scream so loud that all of London would hear.

Every part of him ached with confusion. He shook himself and stood, finally daring to glance back in the direction of Wendy, and one lonely sob escaped his mouth.

Peter took to the sky. Second star to the right and straight on 'til morning.

He did not look back again.

**AN: I would love to know what you guys think of this chapter. Do you think Peter ever went back? Did Wendy find love again? Is the ending to the Peter Pan story bittersweet?(yes!)  
Please review, add to faves, subscribe, ect! It really helps me out a lot and every e-mail I get from telling me someone has done that is like a little teddy bear hug! :3  
Thanks for reading!  
~ Hahs xx  
**


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